Pretend
by Cynthia Salander
Summary: "Please, help me," she pleaded, her eyes practically begging him. He shrugged finally, sighing. "Alright, but don't come complaining to me when you can't resist my charm, and fall head over heels in love with me." Since when did 'forbidden' love become so tempting? Oh, yeah, from the moment she said, "Chandler, could you please be my pretend boyfriend?" Mondler.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: First, I want to thank everyone who reviewed 'Valentine's Day' :)_

_It was a 'spur of the moment' fic, which I wrote in like an hour, not to mention the fact that it was my first attempt at humor (sorry, if you didn't find any in it). So, yeah, they meant a lot to me. Thank you :)_

_Now, I've gone from 'corny' to 'absolute cliché' with this fic (even I know that's not a good thing). And yes, I know I don't need another series going on now, but I have no excuse._

_Well, maybe one... The way I see it, when I have multiple fics to work with, I'm distracted and engaged, all at once (does that make any sense?). And what's more? It keeps me from thinking about an early retirement from FFN (I abhor the concept of unfinished fics). Besides, wouldn't you be happy if I whined a little less?_

_This takes place in the mid-season 3. _

**Pretend**

**Chapter 1**

"I can't deal with this anymore, Rach." Monica placed her head in her hands as she mumbled to her best friend. "I am wearing_ flame retardant_ boobs the size of basketballs. I'm really _not_ in the mood to deal with unrequited love. I mean, he kept calling me the whole time he was on this business trip to Austria."

"I know, Mon." Rachel nodded sympathetically. "And I don't think it's the size of basketballs... Really huge coconuts, maybe?"

"Did you hear anything else I said?"

"Oh, yeah." Rachel nodded again. "I don't think Pete has unrequited _love_ for you. Maybe an unrequited crush."

Monica smiled, titling her head to one side. "Thank you, Rachel. Thank you for spending your time with me, and _thank you _for focusing on the more important things I say."

"Ok, look," Rachel sighed. "Just tell him that you don't feel that way about him. Tell him that the only kind of feelings that you have towards him is… platonic."

"Do you think I haven't tried?" Monica retorted, placing a coffee in front of Rachel. Who would have thought that she, like Rachel once had, would get a chance to serve coffee, too. God, she hated her job. "Every time I start a sentence with 'Pete, I don't think', he cuts me off, and steers the conversation in a totally different direction, at the end of which I'm left with guilt, and an indecent amount of tip."

"Hey!" Rachel perked up. "If _he_ doesn't turn you on, you could always think about his money!"

"Once again, Rach," Monica gave her a phony smile. "Thank you for enriching my life with your pearls of wisdom."

Rachel shrugged. "How do you think I slept with Barry for four years?"

"Because you loved him?"

Rachel snorted, looking at her as if to say _don't be such a Pollyanna, _and patted Monica's hand. "You still have a lot to learn, Mon." She took a sip of her coffee, and looked around distractedly.

Her eyes widened a second later, and she placed the cup on the counter, leaning towards Monica. "Pete's coming," she whispered conspiratorially.

Monica looked up to see Pete making his way towards them. "Hey, Pete," she smiled. "What can I get for you? A hamburger?" she asked him before he could respond. Maybe if she never let him speak, she'd get through the day without having another awkward conversation with him.

If at all fat camp had taught her anything, it was the fact that telling you aren't attracted to someone, repeatedly, breaks that person's heart. She still had emotional scars to prove that theory.

_This isn't about something that happened fifteen years ago, _she reminded herself.

But why did people keep returning to the person who never fails to break their heart? Was it for some kind of twisted, masochistic pleasure?

"Yeah, I'll have a hamburger." He sat down, turning to face Rachel. "Hello, Rachel."

"Hi, Pete," she smiled back, returning to her coffee in haste, unwilling to get sucked into whatever that was going on between Pete and Monica. Where _was _Chandler? He'd said he'd meet them there for lunch.

"How was your Austria trip?" Monica asked, handing him the hamburger.

"It was fine," he shrugged. "I could have used some company, though," he said smiling. "It'd have made a great second date."

Rachel squirmed in her seat uncomfortably, glancing at the restaurant entrance for any sign of Chandler. "I'm going to _kill _him," she muttered to herself.

"What?" Monica responded quickly to Rachel, thankful for the interruption.

"Nothing, nothing," Rachel replied, looking away. "Oh, my god! You've gotta be kidding me!" she exclaimed a second later.

"What?" Monica asked again, following Rachel's gaze.

Just whenever she thought things couldn't possibly get any worse, it always did. Always. But this... this moment was the kind of stuff that you had nightmares about. This _cannot _get worse.

"Monica."

"What- what are you doing here?" she stuttered to the newcomer, noticing Rachel move away ever so slightly from the three of them.

She glanced at Pete, who was now frowning at the intruder. A moment later, his brow slowly cleared as if he was realizing something.

As Monica stared open-mouthed, Pete got up quickly, sticking out a hand for Richard to shake. "Hello, sir. You must be Monica's father. I'm Pete. Pete Becker."

Oh, wait. It just got worse_. _

How had he reached _that _conclusion?

"Pete!" she stared at him in shock while Rachel chuckled lightly. When Monica glared at her, her chuckle turned into a cough, and she glanced again at the entrance, longing for Chandler's appearance. She could really do with some inopportune jokes of his right now.

Richard shook Pete's hand, smiling politely. "Richard Burke. I'm actually Monica's um... friend."

"Oh," Pete nodded, looking embarrassed. "Oh!" he exclaimed a moment later, finally realizing why the name sounded so familiar. He'd heard Monica talk about him to Rachel a lot. A lot.

"Rachel," Richard smiled at her fondly. "How are you?"

"Good, good. Thank you!" she smiled back. "How are _you_?"

"Wouldn't say great," he shrugged, glancing at Monica briefly. "But I'm okay."

The atmosphere around them tense, Monica forced herself to look away from Richard.

What did he want now? It'd taken her six months to get over him, so why should he come now and almost ruin the perfectly insulant wall that she had built to prevent herself from feeling that dull, persistent ache in her heart? Why was Pete's expression turning slightly hostile? And why the hell was Rachel constantly looking at the entrance?

_Cool, act cool_, she told herself. _If he asks how you've been, just tell him that you're fine, and that you're 'happily' single. _Probably not the reply that either man would prefer, but for the sake of her own sanity, that should be her only answer. She cannot go through another heartbreak. It would destroy her. _Nothing has changed, remember that. _

She looked at Richard when he finally spoke to her. "How are you, Monica?"

"I'm fine, I have a great job, and I have wonderful customers," she said, motioning towards Rachel and Pete. And in a moment of something that she would never be able to explain, she added, "And I finally have an amazing boyfriend who wants the same things I want in life."

The three of them stared at her in shock, and her own eyes widened when she realized what she'd said. It wasn't supposed to come out that way. She had meant to say something which would make Richard regret letting her go. But this?

_Oh, god, kill me now._

So much for acting 'cool'.

"What!" they asked her in unison. "You're _seeing _someone?" Rachel asked, looking at her incredulously.

She looked at Rachel, trying to convey to her that she had made a mistake. "Oh," Rachel sighed as she finally understood, nonetheless looking shocked at the complete mess her friend was making out of the situation.

"Who is it?" Pete asked, his voice holding a trace of accusation.

With the two men looking at her expectantly, and with Rachel shaking her head in disapproval, she found it hard to think of an imaginary name.

The tension increasingly very quickly, Rachel muttered again, "Where the hell _is _Chandler?"

And in a sudden moment of inspiration, Monica replied to Pete's question. "Chandler!"

"_What?"_ they asked her again, all at once.

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, her voice eluding her. She wondered whether she looked like a fish to the three of them.

Of all the names that she could have said, why 'Chandler'? She wanted to bury her face in her hands, lock herself up in a room, and never come back outside, but her audience was still waiting for her response.

"Chandler?" Richard asked. "As in your _friend_ Chandler?"

She glanced at Rachel, and could almost read her thought - _Mon, what are you getting yourself __into?_ She gave her a minuscule, helpless shrug. She looked at Pete and Richard, and nodded. "Yes, I'm dating Chandler," she said, not knowing that the way she said it sounded utterly believable.

She had reached the superlative with relative ease – this was the _worst._

~.~

Monica entered the boys' apartment that evening, looking for Chandler. He hadn't come at all that afternoon, leaving Rachel pretty pissed with him.

She wanted to tell him about the new developments. Yes, there had been 'developments'_. 'Oh, Monica, the last time I met your friend Joey, he invited me to a play of his this Sunday. I'll see you, and Chandler there' _and _'Oh, Monica, I'm throwing a party the next weekend. I'd love it if you could stop by. Your parents are coming, too. Why don't you bring Chandler along?'_

She stopped walking the moment she saw Chandler and Joey. Chandler, sitting on his barcalounger, was looking into a beer can through its opening, rotating the can as though it was a kaleidoscope, and Joey was lying on his back, on the floor, waving his arms and legs up and down.

"Hey, Mon!" Joey greeted her from the floor. "Look, I'm making a snow angel!"

Chandler turned to see her, getting off his chair. "Hey! Did you see Joey's snow angel?"

"Are you guys _drunk_?" she asked in disbelief. It was a weekday, and it was just 5 in the evening, so why were they drunk?

"No..." Chandler drawled. "This is _no_ place for such shenanigans! We're completely, one hundred percent sober," he said, looking down at Joey. They stared at each other for a second before they burst into alcohol-induced laughter.

"Chandler."

"Alright," he shrugged. "We stayed from work, and celebrated the completion of my five months of singledom." He handed her a beer, and clinked it with his own empty can. "It's been officially five months since Janice dumped me. Cheers!"

"So you _are _drunk," she concluded. Him being drunk could either work _for _her, or against her. She'd have to convince him to play along with her stupid plan, very, very carefully.

"I'm drunk," he nodded. "But Ross is drunk_er, _and Joey's drunk_est_."

"Yeah, baby!" Joey pumped his fist in the air.

"Wait, Ross is here?" she asked him, suddenly worried. Her brother's presence might be a huge disadvantage.

"Yeah, he's in the bathroom," he pointed. "Hey, Ross!" he yelled, "Mon's here to see you!"

"No, no, no," she shook her head, pulling him towards the kitchen counter, placing her beer on it. "I came to see _you_."

"Hey, Ross!" he shouted again. "She's here to see me, not you. Take your own time!"

"Don't talk to me now!" Ross shouted back. "I have bladder shyness."

"We didn't need to know that, man," Chandler replied with a look of disgust. "Hey, Joe," he hissed at Joey. "Yellow snow!"

Joey nodded back, winking. "Ross, you're making the snow yellow!" he yelled, and they heard Ross groan in frustration. Joey and Chandler collapsed into a fit of rather girly giggles.

"Ugh," Monica shook her head, disgusted.

"Don't worry, Monica," Joey lifted his hand, in what resembled a Nazi salute. "I'll save the Gotham city for you." And this was followed by another bout of laughter from him and Chandler.

She shook her head, quickly becoming impatient. Ross's words were slurred, and Joey was at the stage where one more beer would help him pass out. But Chandler appeared sober enough for the conversation that she wanted to have with him. Besides, drunk people tended to agree to things easily. The different kinds of men that she'd had slept with in the past were a testimony to that fact.

She snatched the beer can from Chandler's hand, and placed it on the counter.

"Hey!" he protested, but complied when she pulled him out the door, and into the hallway, clutching his arm tightly.

She closed the door behind them, and held him by his shoulders. "Chandler, I need your help."

"But Joey _just _offered to protect Gotham for you!"

"Chandler..." she sighed. "I need you to be my pretend boyfriend."

He suddenly looked alert. "Come again?"

"Ok, look. Pete _and _Richard came to the diner today, and, while having a perfectly normal conversation, I told them, for some unknown reason, that _you_ are my boyfriend," she looked at him sheepishly.

He stared at her for a second, and shook his head. "Come again?" he repeated.

"Chandler..." she whined. "I'm sorry, but it just came out, y'know? I wanted to show Richard that I was doing great without him, and all of a sudden I blurted out that I have a boyfriend. When they asked for a name, yours was the only one that came to my mind!" And of course the fact that Rachel had been cursing him had helped, but he didn't need to know that now.

"You couldn't think of anyone else, huh?" He smirked, looking flattered. "Ok, but why are you telling me this? It's not like either of them is going to come investigating for the truth."

"That's where it gets worse. Apparently, Joey invited Pete to his play this Sunday, and Richard has invited _us,_" she emphasized 'us' by motioning to the space between them, "to a party the next weekend."

"So?"

"So, I need you to pretend like you're my boyfriend."

"I don't think it's a good idea, Mon," he shook his head. "I mean, it's very flattering. Really. But I suck at acting, and I don't think I'd be very comfortable watching two guys pine over you, while they're secretly wishing that _I'd_ die." He patted her arm consolingly, and moved to open his apartment door.

She pulled him back. "Please, _please, _Chandler. It's not like it's forever. It's just for two nights. Please? Pretty please? My _mother's _going to be there at Richard's party, and I cannot put up with her 'how did you manage to screw things up with Richard again?' crap. Think of it as helping out a good friend. You're helping me to teach Pete that he has to move on, and to show Richard that _I_ have moved on."

"Why do you need to show Richard that?"

"For the sake of my dignity and self-esteem?"

"Hey," he shrugged, "I've been living without those for quite sometime now, and I'm doing _pretty _well!"

She took his hand in both of hers, and held it to her chest. "Chandler, could you please be my pretend boyfriend?"

He sighed, stroking his forehead with his other hand. "Why did it have to be _my _name?"

"I've been asking myself that very question."

He nodded, looking off at a distance, thoughtfully. He looked back at her after several seconds. "Am I allowed to make out with you?"

"No," she shook her head.

"Can I kiss you on the lips, no tongue?"

"No."

He shook his head again, turning to his door. "I'm out."

"Ok, ok." She pulled him back once again. "You can kiss my hands. _And _my cheeks!" she looked at him enticingly.

"Yeah," he shook his head. "I don't wanna do that unless you're the Pope. Or if I want people to think of me as your gay boyfriend."

"Well..." she trailed off, shrugging.

"Do you want my help or not?"

"Yes, yes, I do," she nodded vigorously. "Please? You'd be doing your friend a favor. Just two nights, and I'll be eternally grateful to you."

"Didn't I tell you to stop reading my mother's books?"

"Please, help me," she pleaded, her eyes practically begging him.

He shrugged finally, sighing. "Alright, fine," he nodded. "But don't come complaining to me when you can't resist my charm, and fall head over heels in love with me."

"I don't think that's going to be much of a problem," she retorted.

"Again, do you want my help or not?"

"Yes, I do. Thank you, Chandler," she wrapped her arms around him tightly, and kissed his cheek. "I love you so, so much. Thank you!" She pulled back, gagging slightly. "By the way, you need a shower. Very badly."

~.~.~

_A/N: This chapter is dedicated to one of our all-time favorite characters – Joey Tribbiani! Because, we never get to see a drunk Joey on the show (at least I don't remember watching one) :)_

_Guess what? I have absolutely no idea where I'm going with this story. It definitely ain't gonna have double-digit chapters, though. But stay tuned! I'll figure things out ;)_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Remember, this is season 3 Chandler, so he's as quippy, insecure and awkward as they come._

_Rachel and Ross have already broken up, and in this chapter, a lot is riding on that fact._

_I'm guessing that this fic will be much lighter than my others._

_I know they didn't bring in the Geller Finger until season 4, but for the sake of simplicity, I'm not going to have one of the characters explain what it means, since I assume that all the readers already know._

_**I'm putting 'The Finish Line' on an indefinite hold. **__My next update would either be 'That Thing Called Love' or the epilogue to 'Forever and a Day'._

**Pretend**

**Chapter 2**

"We're still on for tonight, right?" Monica asked Chandler as she handed him a plate of toast. They were all in apartment 20.

The weekended had arrived too soon, and he felt underprepared for what she wanted him to do. He still couldn't understand why she was reluctant to go out with Pete. If he were a woman, he would, for he seemed like such a nice guy, who had everything. Really, _everything._ "Yeah, I guess," he shrugged unenthusiastically.

"What uh... what's on for tonight?" Ross looked from his sister to his best friend.

"Oh, Monica asked me out on a date," Chandler shrugged, taking a bite of his toast.

"What?" was the collective question that was directed at Monica by Ross, Joey, and Phoebe.

Ross frowned at her, clearly not pleased with this piece of information. "First our dad's best friend and now _my _best friend? What's the matter with you?"

Chandler winced as Monica swatted his arm.

She turned to her brother with a glare. "Nothing's the matter with me. I asked him to be my _pretend _boyfriend for tonight."

"Why?" Ross asked again, his expression revealing that he wasn't very comfortable with this either. "Why would you do that?"

"Because she promised she'd sleep with me if I did this for her," Chandler shrugged again.

She slapped his arm again, much harder this time. "What's wrong with you today?"

"Ow!" he glared at her, rubbing his arm slowly. "Try not having sex for five months and then ask _yourself_ that question."

She let out an exasperated breath and turned to the other four, shaking her head. "I promised him no such thing. Rachel knows what happened," she motioned towards Rachel.

"What did happen?" Phoebe looked intrigued.

"Well," Monica started, "Joey has invited Pete to his play tonight, and saying 'Pete, I'm not interested in you' hasn't really been working well for me. So," she paused for emphasis, "I asked Chandler to pretend like he's my boyfriend, to discourage Pete," she smiled proudly at the ingenuity of her plan.

"_And?_" Rachel raised her eyebrows meaningfully. "Don't leave out the other stupid part."

Monica looked embarrassed. "And Richard invited me to a party the next weekend, and Chandler will be my boyfriend there, too."

"Richard? You're going to Richard's party? When did you even meet him?" Ross asked, sounding worried. "Are you sure you want to get into all this again, Monica?"

"Yeah, and why _Chandler_?" Joey asked, sounding offended.

"I don't know," she shrugged helplessly, unable to face the onslaught of questions. "Aren't you excited about your play tonight, Joey?" she changed the topic abruptly.

Chandler interrupted before Joey could reply. "I don't know about the whole Richard thing, Ross, but Joe, I _think _the reason she said for choosing me was that she couldn't think of anyone else," he grinned widely.

"So if something does happen between you two," Phoebe motioned between Chandler and Monica, "it'll be like a 'love square'."

"'Love square'?" Ross scoffed, squirming in his seat. "Why- why- uh... why would something happen between them?" he directed the question at Phoebe, his fingers tearing the toast into tiny bits. "They're just going to be pretending, right?"

"Ross," Monica patted her brother's hand reassuringly. "Nothing's going to happen between us, and yes, we'll be just pretending."

"Oh, good," Ross sighed, his shoulders relaxing. When Chandler shot him a look, he hurried to explain. "Not that Monica wouldn't be _lucky_ to have a guy like _you_, but it's just against the rules, y'know?"

"Uh huh?" Chandler raised an eyebrow. "What rules?"

"Y'know, just rules – basic social conduct. You don't get involved with girls that are your friends' relatives or exes or possible girlfriends," he shrugged. "These rules are there for a reason and it's always better if you follow them," he chuckled uncomfortably.

"Yeah, like the time you followed them when you were counting my mother's teeth with your tongue?"

"Hey!" Ross pointed a finger at him, "There was no tongue." His shoulders slumped again and he continued. "But that's in the past, Chandler. You need to let go of the past."

"So we _weren't_ on a break?" Rachel asked slyly. "I mean, that's definitely in the past."

"Oh, we _were _on a break!" he retorted instinctively, glaring at Rachel for several seconds before he turned to Chandler again. "As I was saying, if Monica is _my_ sister, then she's like _your _sister," he gestured with his hands as he spoke. "And if anything happened between you two, it'd be kinda icky. So it's like..." he trailed off looking for the correct word. "It's forbidden."

"Whoa, whoa!" Chandler raised his hands, looking disgusted. "_What?_ She's not my _sister_! Dude, I may not have a sister, but I'm certainly not looking for one, so stopping going around telling guys that your sister is their sister!" As the others stared at him, he added, "Monica is _not _my sister."

"Why not?" Ross frowned. "She's an amazing sister..."

As Monica looked at her brother fondly, Chandler stared at Monica, wondering how he could tell Ross that the thoughts that he sometimes had about Monica wouldn't exactly be classified as 'brotherly'. For example, he had always wondered how Monica would be in bed. Not in a weird, perverted way, but she just seemed so very passionate about everything she did, and passion was a rather important ingredient in sex, so...

Okay, maybe it was a little perverted.

"Dude, you're staring," Joey whispered in his ear.

Chandler snapped back into reality, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "Let's just say that I'm not looking for a sister. Maybe a hot girlfriend, but definitely not a sister."

"When did all this happen anyway?" Ross asked, letting go of the previous topic.

"That day when we all got drunk," Chandler shrugged.

"While I was there?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

"Then why didn't you say anything about this to me back then?" Ross asked him, his question mildly accusative.

"Because you have bladder shyness?" Chandler smirked as Joey sniggered.

Ross's eyes widened. "Shh!" he glowered at Chandler and Joey, glancing at Rachel.

"Ross," Rachel got off her seat to place her plate in the sink. "We went out for a year, and I know you can't pee when people are talking to you." She washed her hands and grabbed her purse. "Or when you _think _people are talking to you," she muttered as she went to the door. "Bye, guys!" she waved at everyone except Ross and closed the door behind her.

Ross stared at the door for a few seconds before he banged his fists together.

"Y'now, it's amazing how amicable you guys are, even after breaking up," Chandler gave him a fake smile.

Ross banged his fists again at him as he rose from his chair. "I'll see you guys at the play. Remember, Joey, I'm bringing a date," he said before he left. Phoebe left a moment later.

"So, Mon," Chandler turned her, grinning. "Now that we're pretending and all, do you want to practice some kissing? Because that way, Pete will definitely know that you're off-limits," he shrugged.

"Yeah," Monica shook her head. "I think I'll pass."

"Why not?" he whined. "Girls always tell me that I have the _softest _lips! In fact, even Mary Angela-" he started, but stopped abruptly when he noticed the look on Joey's face.

"Do you really wanna pull at that thread, buddy?" Joey smiled at him threateningly.

"Umm... no," he turned away slowly, watching Monica grin.

"And Chandler," she suddenly placed a hand on his cheek, his so-called goatee scratching her fingers. "Get rid of this..." she trailed off, her fingers stroking his cheek, "thing," she finished finally. "It makes you look like you're on the cusp of puberty."

He nodded. "You know, now that I think about it, I think I'm undergoing it all again. The growth spurt, the facial hair," he stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Growth spurt?" Monica cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I feel like I've grown an inch or two taller," he shrugged. "I've definitely regained my virginity."

She laughed, shaking her head.

"Will you help me lose it, Mon?"

~.~

_Mention my name, and they will let you in, _Joey had told them in the morning since he hadn't given them the tickets by then. Monica was amazed that people there actually knew who Joey Tribbiani was. It was his first big break and she just wished it's all go well for him.

She held Chandler's hand tightly in hers as she entered the theater with him. The theater was already packed.

Ross and Rachel, who were bringing their dates, were yet to arrive, and it didn't seem like Pete had arrived either. Joey had already left in the afternoon, for one final rehearsal.

Chandler leaned in to whisper in her ear. "You know, if this was a movie, I'd have been gay, and you'd fall in love with me and have your heart broken."

"Sounds like a rather lousy movie," she replied as she waved at Phoebe whom she had just spotted.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Joey audition for the gay guy's part. I don't think it ever got made."

"Hey, where are the others?" Phoebe asked as they reached her. "And I need to ask you something."

"They're on their way, Pheebs. What do you need to ask?" Monica sat down beside her.

"There are totally 8 of us, right? I mean, including Ross and Rachel's dates and Pete?"

"Yeah," Chandler nodded.

"It just struck me, but Joey was telling me this morning that he'd gotten us _7_ seats," she looked at them quizzically.

"Are you sure he said 7?" Monica asked, worried. Things were still tense between Rachel and Ross, and if the number of seats allocated for them really was only seven, it'd cause a huge problem.

"Yeah, I'm sure," she nodded. "I remember it becau-"

"Hey, guys."

They all stood up on seeing Pete, Monica glancing at Chandler for a moment to let him know that it was time to start acting.

"Hello, Pete," Chandler stuck out a hand for him to shake. "Good to meet you again," he smiled, placing his other hand on Monica's back.

"You, too, Chandler," Pete nodded. "You, too." He glanced at his watch before looking up at them again. "When does the play start?"

"In about half an hour," Monica replied, wondering what Chandler was trying to do, when his fingers reached her waist. She moved away slightly when his touch turned ticklish.

Phoebe sunk back into her seat while the other three continued to stand, staring at one another awkwardly.

Pete broke the silence finally. "So, Chandler, I hear you and Monica?" he smiled lightly.

"Yes," Chandler nodded. "I guess," he trailed off, looking uncertain.

Monica's hand travelled around his back, her fingers discreetly pinching his forearm, hard.

"Ah!" he yelped in pain, but nodded with fake enthusiasm. "Yes! Yes! Me and Monica, isn't that wonderful?" he grinned at Pete widely, glaring at Monica out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes, it is," Pete nodded without much interest.

"Honey," Chandler turned to Monica, placing his hand again on her back. "Did I tell you that you look amazing tonight?" He stroked her back, his hand traveling lower and lower. "I mean, this _dress_, this _body._"

"Chandler!" she pulled away from him, smiling at Pete, embarrassed.

"Sorry," he shrugged, looking at Pete. "She just brings that raw, sexual desire out in me, even when we're in public," he chuckled, watching both Pete and Monica's cheeks turn red.

"Hey, there's Ross and Rachel!" Pete turned away from Monica and Chandler, thankful for the distraction.

Monica smacked Chandler's arm the moment Pete turned away. "_Don't _overdo it!" she hissed, glowering.

"Is this the way you treat your _real_ boyfriends?" he bickered back, rubbing his arm. "If that's the case, that would solve a lot of mysteries."

"Too far, Chandler," she muttered, her cheeks turning bright red with anger.

"Do you want to back out of the deal?" He stared back at her, his own anger rising. To be truthful, this really wasn't a deal. She hadn't said she would do anything for him in return.

"Chandler, Pheebs, Mon."

They broke the gaze when they heard Ross speak, and turned towards him, frowning.

"Guys, I'd like you to meet Cailin," he pointed at the woman beside him. "And Cailin, these are my friends, Chandler, Phoebe, and Monica's my sister," he finished, motioning towards Monica.

Before the three could say anything, Rachel came forward, pulling her date by his hand. "And this is Tommy. Tommy, this is everybody!"

"And Cailin works in my department," Ross interrupted, smiling at Rachel falsely.

"Well, that's a coincidence because Tommy works in mine," Rachel replied, returning his smile.

Phoebe and Monica glanced at each other worriedly.

"So, Chandler, tell me, how did it happen?" Pete motioned between Chandler and Monica as he tried to divert the topic, sensing the unease in the group. "I though you guys were friends."

"I did, too, Pete. I did, too," he replied, looking away. He sighed in relief when he saw Joey comimg towards them. "Hey, there's the star of the play!" he patted him on the back, smiling.

"Yeah, yeah," Joey nodded, flashing a tense smile. "Listen, I'm so glad you guys are all here. You can finally meet Kate! Just wait till the play's over."

"Joey, this is Tommy," Rachel introduced her date, looking over at Ross triumphantly.

Ross grabbed Cailin's hand in his and tapped Joey's shoulder. "And this is Cailin, Joe."

"Hi!" he nodded at them both distractedly. "Hope you guys will enjoy the play," he said, glancing at the stage nervously. His head snapped towards the gang a second later. "Wait!" he counted the number of people in the group, his eyes widening in realization. "There are eight of you?"

They all nodded, Phoebe giving Monica an 'I-told-you-so' look.

_Oh, god, _Monica sighed mentally.

"But- but-" Joey stuttered, "but there are only seven seats!"

"What?" Ross looked at him incredulously. "How is that even possible? I told you I was bringing a date."

"I know," Joey nodded, looking like he was going to have a mental breakdown. "I must have forgotten to count Johnny!"

"Tommy," Rachel corrected him, looking pissed. "What are we going to do?"

"Uh..." Joey shifted from one foot to the other, looking uncomfortable.

"I can leave," Tommy suggested slowly. "We can go out some other time," he said to Rachel.

"Yeah, I think that'd be best," Ross nodded as if people were asking for his opinion.

At that moment, Chandler knew there would be no easy way to solve this problem.

"Tommy, you can't do that!" Rachel shook her head, ignoring Ross's comment. "Joey, I told you I needed _two _tickets, _way_ before anyone else did," she looked at Ross briefly.

"Oh, this is just so typical," Ross muttered, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"What? What's _so_ typical?" Rachel stormed towards him threateningly.

"I could leave," Pete offered.

"No, you can't!" Joey shook his head. "You're like today's VIP guest."

Rachel turned towards Ross's date. "Cailin, did you know that the only way solve an argument with your girlfriend is to sleep with the copy girl?"

"Hey!" Ross glowered at her. "The only reason I did that was because I thought _you _were sleeping with Mark."

"Ugh..." Rachel shook her head, disgusted. "That is just _so-_"

"Guys, guys!" Joey intervened, looking panicked. "I'm sorry! Math has never been my strongest suit, but we could try solving this without making a fuss," he pleaded, looking from one face to the other.

"So when did it happen?" Pete murmured to Chandler, trying to change the topic once again. "You and Monica, I mean."

Chandler stared back at Pete, drawing a blank. He was still pissed at Monica. He knew it was a trivial reason, he knew he was equally at fault, but something about the word 'pretend' made him angry. He deserved something real from life. He deserved to be more than just a 'pretend boyfriend'.

He realized that he and Monica had done nothing to prepare for this night – they had come up with no fake facts, no fake dates, no fake first kisses. All she had done was come up with the idea of a fake _boyfriend._

_Dude, this is not underprepared, this is unprepared,_ his brain told him, and he agreed with it completely.

A second later, it murmured a plan in his head. He glanced from Joey's helpless face to Pete's curious face, and he _knew_ it was a win-win plan.

"Maybe I can leave," he told Joey, ignoring Monica's shocked expression. He loved both Monica and Joey, but he felt like he was unrewarded by Monica. And as for Joey, as much as he loved him, if there was any chance at all for him to not sit through four hours of his best friend's play, he'd grab it immediately.

"No, no, no, you can't!" Joey whined, shaking his head forlornly. "I want you here, Chandler. This is my first major play!"

"What did you want me to do, Ross?" Rachel was continuing their argument. "Did you want me to wear a chastity belt? Because that would have been really ironic since _you _should have been the one to wear it in the first place."

Joey turned to Chandler and nodded. "Yeah, I think it will help if you left."

~.~

Joey had pulled him aside to tell him how grateful he was for doing what he had done. The last thing he wanted now was an argument. He'd apologized for not having the presence of mind to get the correct number of tickets in the first place.

After assuring Joey that he needn't worry about anything and after wishing him good luck, he had walked out the theater, looking at Monica briefly, watching Pete's lips curve into a small smile.

In that one moment of overwhelming guilt as he'd turned away from Monica's hurt face, he knew he would have to apologize to her later.

The cool night air ruffled his hair as he walked slowly. Maybe he could go to the park before he went home. The weather was pleasant and he knew that if he went home now, he'd just be bored.

He didn't think anything about the quick footsteps behind him until he felt someone grasp his arm tightly. He turned to look, shocked for a second. "Monica?"

"Hey," she murmured as they continued to walk.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her, surprised.

"I couldn't leave my boyfriend alone," she shrugged, looking up at him. She smiled at him tentatively.

She had continued with the act for Pete's sake, he knew that. But his own lips curved into a reluctant smile as he nodded. "He's glad."

He offered her his elbow and she linked her arm with his, her smile widening.

They had not imagined that the night would turn out this way. They had no idea that this little incident was going to change their lives forever.

They were in for a rather big surprise.

~.~.~

_A/N: Sorry for the overdose of R/R, but it was necessary. The next chapter will be MAJORLY Mondler-y, and I'm unhealthily excited to write it!_

_So, on seeing the 28 reviews, I fainted. Once I regained my consciousness, I checked to see whether I've posted the fic in the right category :P_

_I'm kidding! Thank you for all those great, wonderful, fantastic, amazing (etc.) reviews! :D_

_I enjoy writing these fics just as much as you enjoy reading them. So a nice word of encouragement now and then will always, always be appreciated by me (in fact, they're rather crucial for my survival) :)_

_There's something special about today (not that anybody cares, but I'm gonna tell anyway) – **As of today, it's been exactly a year since I posted my first fic on this site.** So much has happened since then, and I got all nostalgic and teary-eyed thinking about it :')_

_Thank you so much for sticking with me for so long. Had it not been for the amazing feedback that you guys give me, 365 days of being wholeheartedly dedicated to something is a notion that I cannot even begin to fathom. I love each and every one of you wonderful people. I do, I really do :)_

_Thank you!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: All of a sudden, I'm getting loads of reader traffic for 'If it's Love'. You guys really like it when I break Mondler up, don't you? :P Anyway, I promise I'll be continuing that soon, too._

_Here's the 'MAJORLY Mondler-y' chapter of 'Pretend' that I promised. (I have no idea whether the movie 'French Kiss' is an anachronism here, but I don't really care. Something tells me that at the end of the chapter, you wouldn't care, either ;))_

_I dedicate this chapter to 'F.R.I.E.N.D.S', which just turned 18 :')_

**Pretend**

**Chapter 3**

"I'm sorry," Chandler said after several seconds of silence as they continued to walk.

She didn't need any explanation; she knew why he was apologizing.

As trivial and even kind of stupid as their "fight" had been, they both knew that in their tight-knit group of six friends, when one hurt the other, it caused even more pain that it normally would.

"Yeah, me too," she sighed, resting her head lightly against his shoulder. "It was a stupid plan, anyway."

"So you don't need me to be your pretend boyfriend at Richard's party?" he asked hopefully. If he felt uncomfortable acting in front of Pete, towards whom Monica had no feelings whatsoever, even the thought of having to act like he was Monica's boyfriend, in front of Richard, freaked him out.

"Oh, no, no, no," she shook her head hurriedly. "You'll have to be there. But after Richard's party, I promise I won't drag you into any of my idiotic plans."

"That's comforting to know," he nodded. "Y'know where it all went wrong tonight?"

"When Joey got us seven tickets instead of eight?"

"Well, yes, _that_," he chuckled. "But I'm talking about us. I think we went in without any preparation. I mean, the guy kept asking me 'How did it happen? How did it happen?' and my mind was drawing a blank!" he threw his hands up in exasperation. "And _you, _whenever I turned to you, you either hit me, or I was distracted by that neckline on your dress."

She glared at him, feeling the color rise to her cheeks. "Jerk," she elbowed him in the ribs, laughing in spite of herself when he winked at her suggestively.

"So how was Pete when you left him all alone with a group of rather unpleasant strangers?" he asked, linking his arm with hers again.

"He didn't look very pleased, but, hey, it's not like _I_ invited him. Joey did, he's Joey's guest."

"I still don't understand why you won't go out with him," he shook his head. "He has money. I mean, he has more money than you or I would probably ever see in our entire lifetime. He's not bad to look at, and he's _such _a gentleman-"

"A gentleman who gave me a $20,000 check so that I'd agree to go out with him."

"That could have been a momentary lapse of judgement," he waved it off dismissively. "I'd go out with him if he asked me out on a date," he shrugged nonchalantly, and on noticing the weird look that she was giving him, he hurriedly added, "and if I were a woman."

"_That's_ the quality we were talking about back then," she pointed out. "If you don't want people to think you're gay, then stop telling women that you'd gladly go out on a date with some guy."

"Noted, duly noted," he nodded. "You do know that I'm not gay, right?" he asked her worriedly.

"I know," she patted his arm. "But even if you were, would it be so bad?"

"No..." he trailed off reluctantly. "Besides, at the rate at which my love life is going, turning gay is quickly becoming a very attractive option."

"Oh, sweetie," she laughed lightly, stroking his arm. "So what if it's been five months? You'll find someone."

"Yes, people keep telling me that someday, I'm gonna make some unlucky woman _very_ unhappy."

She giggled again. "Shall we go home or do you wanna go somewhere else?"

"Well, before you joined me, I thought I'd go to the Park first," he shrugged.

"Do you want to go to the Park now?"

"Not really," he shook his head. "We could walk around for a while, though, before we go home. I just remembered that 'French Kiss' is on TV tonight. Wanna watch it with me?"

She raised her eyebrows, smirking.

"Hey, don't judge me! I just happen to be a huge fan of Meg Ryan!" he looked at her defensively.

"Whatever you say," she raised her hands to pacify him. They continued to walk towards their home.

~.~

They reached his apartment an hour later. She sat down on Joey's barcalounger as Chandler grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge for them.

Handing her one, he pointed at the small vacant space beside her on the chair. "Scooch," he nudged her leg with his. "Yeah, I think that space will be enough for me," he commented as he sat down, squashing them together on the barcalounger. "I'm thinner than you, anyway."

"Hey!" she exclaimed, offended.

"Alright, you can be the thin one," he rolled his eyes. "I like my curves." He stretched his legs, taking a sip of his water. "Ah, this is comfortable."

"Isn't _that_ your chair?" she asked him, pointing at the other barcalounger.

"Yes, but Joey never allows me to sit here," he said bitterly. "Rosita's coordinates are such that the person sitting on her has easier access to the bathroom and the counter, and doesn't get any glare coming off of Stevie," he pointed at the television. "This is the prefect chair." His eyes widening, he abruptly turned towards his chair and stroked its armrest. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean that! You're perfect, too, Haley, you're perfect, too."

Monica stared at him, dumbfounded. "Okay, I didn't understand even half of what you just said, but I just know that a twenty-eight year old should not be christening and having conversations with inanimate objects." She placed the water bottle beside her and turned to him again. "Didn't you wanna watch 'French Kiss'?"

"Oh," he groaned. "Remote's over there," he pointed at the counter, looking at her with pleading eyes. "Could you _please _get it for me."

"Sorry, honey," she shook her head, not looking the least bit sorry. "This _is_ so damn comfortable," she murmured as she pulled the footrest lever. "Besides, you have 'easier access'," she mimicked him.

"Wow, you're such a wonderful company," he muttered, staring at the blank TV screen.

They sat together in perfect silence for several seconds before she turned towards him, looking bored. "So we're just gonna sit here and keep watching the turned-off TV?"

"Well, you wouldn't get me the remote, so..." he trailed off, shrugging.

"Lazy," she muttered, fitting herself closer to him when he extended his arm around the back of the chair.

"Look who's talking," he muttered back, kicking her leg lightly.

"I'm bored," she sighed, wrapping an arm around him in a loose hug. "Tell me something."

"Umm... Okay," he nodded. "Have I told you my Thanksgiving story?"

"Oh, god. A million times, Chandler. If you're gonna tell that again, I'd better get going," she moved to sit up, but he pulled her back.

"Okay, so no Thanksgiving story. Did I tell you how Janice dumped me?"

"I think the single stiletto shoe in your bedroom speaks for itself," she chuckled.

"I chased her down the street, y'know?" he said softly, seriously.

She looked up at him, surprised at the sudden change in his tone.

"I chased her down the street, I gave her contact paper and a drawer," he sighed. "I hugged her leg and begged her not to leave me." He looked at Monica, noticing that he was bringing her down. "In public," he added, smiling.

She smiled back for a second, but it disappeared from her lips slowly. "It's so unfair that no one warns you how hard this whole 'falling in love' thing is gonna be," she sighed. "I honestly thought Richard was _it_ for me. The whole relationship felt comfortable, secure."

"Maybe being comfortable and secure alone is not enough in a relationship," he shrugged."You broke up with him because you wanted a future and he didn't. It might have hurt back then, it might hurt right now, but trust me, when look back at it later, you'd know that you'd made the right choice."

"Is it me?" she asked him, looking up at him curiously. "Sometimes I wonder whether it's all in my karma or something. You know, this one time, a couple of years back, Rachel, Phoebe, and I made a 'boyfriend' bonfire to break the bad boyfriend cycle."

He grinned. "What happened?"

"Well, it got out of control, and the firemen who came to put it out offered to take us out on a date."

"So your bad boyfriend cycle was broken?" he cocked an eyebrow, surprised.

"No," she chuckled. "All the three guys were already married, and one had a girlfriend _and_ a wife."

"Wow," he nodded appreciatively. "Maybe if I worked out a little bit, I could build my bicep, become a fireman, and have a wife _and_ a girlfriend," he stroked his arm, as though searching for his "bicep".

"Maybe I'm not the kind of woman with whom you'd have a child," she continued, her tone miserable. "Or maybe I'm not as pretty as Julia."

"Who the hell is Julia?" he looked at her like she was crazy.

"Kip's wife," she stated as if it was obvious.

"Oh, my god," his groaned. "Do you really wanna do this? Do you really wanna play 'Whose Life is Crappiest'? Because I'd win hands down," he nodded. "I got dumped by Janice. _Janice. _And have you _not_ heard my Thanksgiving story?"

"A million times, Chandler," she repeated, sighing.

He would never understand what possessed him to say what he was about to say. A tiny part in his brain, the part which had taught him that it is always better to hide what you feel, than to reveal it and become vulnerable, that part told him that he'd regret it if he carried this conversation on. But he just didn't care.

"And do you think I want to be someone's _pretend_ boyfriend?" he asked, the hurt in his voice very apparent. "Do I not deserve to be a _real_ boyfriend?"

She lifted her head to look at him, feeling like he had slapped her across the face.

A moment too late, he realized he'd said too much. "And did I tell you that I was dumped by Janice?" he asked weakly, chuckling, trying and failing to deflect attention from what he'd just said. As she continued to look at him, he knew he'd hurt her again. "I'm sorry," he sighed, brushing his fingers against her cheek. "I didn't mean that."

"Yes, you did," she said slowly, nodding.

"Okay, on some level, I just think-"

"You do deserve to be a real boyfriend, Chandler," she cut him off softly. She pulled herself closer to him, placing a hand on his cheek. "Honey, of all the men I know, you are the one who deserves it the most."

"Well, maybe I come off a little desperate, but you don't need to put it that way..." he trailed off uncertainly.

She laughed, shaking her head. "That's not what I meant. I'm just saying, Joey two-times every woman he dates, and _Ross,_" she cocked an eyebrow. "I think Rachel will give us a list as to why Ross does not deserve to be in a relationship."

He smiled back.

"You keep saying that you're bad at the whole dating thing, and we all agree with you all the time. But y'know what the truth is? I've never seen any guy put so much into a relationship. That shoe in your bedroom," she pointed at his door, "is a proof to that."

"Along with this conversation, throw in my sweatpants and that soy-milk-crap ice cream, and it's just like the day when I chased Janice down the road, all over again," he chuckled.

She didn't smile back. "Why do you do that? Why do you have this pathological need to deflect any serious moment with a joke?"

"I'm sorry," he sighed again, "old habits die hard."

"I do mean it, Chandler. You deserve to be in a real relationship. I'm sorry I dragged you into this whole thing," she murmured softly, looking genuinely apologetic.

The look on her face tugged at his heart. "Nah, that's okay. What are friends for?" he pressing his lips against her forehead. "And thank you, Mon. That's very sweet," he drew back smiling.

His eyes lingered on her face for a second, noticing how her lips curved slightly to the left when she smiled. When her eyes held his gaze, he broke it instantly, lowering his eyes, feeling like they were crossing some sort of sacred line.

_Great, now you're staring at her neck. What-?_

"You have something on your neck," he frowned, his hand rising to her neck.

"What?" her hand flew to her throat in panic.

"Nothing," he laughed, "just a dried up leaf." He removed the small leaf and showed it to her before throwing it away, noticing, for the umpteenth time that night, how her pale, freckled skin contrasted with the dark blue of her wrap dress.

In his head, he could hear Ross's voice say _it's forbidden_, and he pulled his eyes sharply away from her neck and glanced at her face again.

It was the side effect of the five months of inescapable celibacy, he told himself. It had to be.

Her head resting on his shoulder, she looked at him curiously, her lips a thin line, realizing just how close they were now. She recognized the look on his face to be the one that he'd worn before he'd kissed her on the night of Joey's birthday party.

After innumerable 'almost' kisses throughout their seven-year friendship, the only time they had actually kissed was on Joey's birthday the previous month. She remembered the feel of his lips against hers - soft to touch, and yet surprisingly hard when pressed against her own. She had pushed him away only when she realized just how drunk he actually was. And she'd realized even that only when he'd murmured 'I think I'm gonna heave', pulling away from her for a second.

A strong desire to kiss him now rose from somewhere deep within, and she knew that if he did kiss her, she'd wouldn't be pushing him away this time.

He knew what she was going to ask, so he asked it first, for he'd never be able answer that question without embarrassing both of them. "Why are looking at me like that?"

Her lips twitched, and he had a vivid recollection of the night of Joey's birthday – a trail of green along her lips, wherever his lips had been on her skin. He still remembered that she'd allowed him to kiss her for several seconds before gently pushing him away. Who knew, maybe he'd said something stupid to her that night.

"Why are _you_ looking at me like that?" she countered, asking him the question that he hadn't wanted to answer in the first place.

The hand that he had wrapped around the back of the chair was now around her, his fingers exploring her shoulder. Her arched eyebrow was her only objection to it.

He was an expert at breaking moments such as these, so why was he having so much difficulty with breaking this one?

"Blue suits you," he said finally. "You... you look beautiful," his words soft and earnest, he regretted it the moment they left his lips. What the hell was he doing? This was _Monica - _the ever-unattainable Monica.

Acutely aware as to where this was leading, she trailed one finger along his lips. "And you do have the softest lips."

_Oh, god, help me._

She had closed her eyes in anticipation, and he could feel her quickened breath against his cheek.

Did she actually want him to kiss her?

_Don't assume. Do. Not. Assume._

"Y'know, there's this interesting fact about French kiss."

"What?" she opened her eyes, confused, watching him turn away guiltily.

"Not the movie. I mean the act of French kissing. There's an interesting fact about that," he continued, looking away.

No one could break a moment like Chandler could.

The year Joey moved in with him, she remembered being locked in a close embrace with him for several minutes, with her wearing only a towel. When they had pulled apart, what he asked her was whether her towel was a hundred percent cotton.

"What?" she asked again, nonplussed.

"Apparently, it was not even considered to be a kiss. Women in France used it to check whether their husbands had consumed alcohol. Only in modern times it became a popular kissing technique," he finished awkwardly, trying to ignore Monica's clueless expression. "Interesting, isn't it?"

He cringed mentally. Who would tell 'interesting facts' to a hot woman, whom they so badly wanted to kiss? Maybe Ross Geller would, but what was happening to _him_?

_No wonder you haven't had sex in five months,_ his conscience sniggered, and he suddenly wished he didn't have a brain.

She stared at him for several seconds without replying before she asked him again incredulously, "_What?_"

"Do you wanna watch French Kiss now?" he asked, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

"I- uh..." she trailed off, feeling disconcerted all of a sudden. Had she misread him? Did _he _not want to kiss her? Was she kissable only when he was drunk? She stood up slowly, trying to brush away the feeling of confused disappointment. "I should get going, it's getting late," she murmured eventually, refusing to meet his eyes.

He glanced at the clock. It said 9 o' clock.

This was turning more and more awkward by the second, and he knew that it would be best for both of them if she left.

"I will walk you home," he smiled as he rose from the barcalounger.

"How gentlemanly," she commented, looking at him, smiling back uncertainly, grabbing her purse.

"I am that," he nodded, starting towards his apartment door, holding it open for her, feeling an unsettlingly strange combination of relief and wistfulness.

He followed her as she left out the door, patiently waiting beside her as she searched for her keys in her purse.

Once she found it, she held it up, smiling.

He smiled back, "So, good night, Mon."

"Good night," she nodded. She peered into his eyes, her smile dropping from her lips.

And then he knew it, too - she wouldn't be pushing him away this time.

_Leave. Leave now, _his brain hissed, but he stood rooted to the spot.

Her fingers slowly rose to fiddle with the knot of his tie, and he knew that if he wanted to leave before they did something that they both would regret, this was the moment to do so.

But, god, he wanted to stay.

From the look on her face, he knew she wanted him to, too.

"Y'know, there's this interesting fact about saying 'good night'-" he started again lamely, knowing that there was only one way this night was going to end.

Her fingers left his tie as she hooked her arms around his neck. He stopped breathing for a second when she stood on her toes, looking into his eyes, blue meeting blue.

She moved in closer against him, and he could feel her heart thudding against his chest.

"I was thinking more along the lines of the French kiss," she whispered, licking her lips.

"I thought you said no kissing," he whispered back, leaning in towards her.

"Oh, what the hell did I know?" she murmured before she closed the gap between their lips.

~.~.~

_A/N: I'm guessing that that would've made you guys at least a little bit happy :D (Don't be too happy, though. That 'Big Tree' is still lurking in the corner.) Oh, and t__hat bit about 'French kiss' is actually a trivia that I read somewhere when I was a kid. I don't remember it exactly, but this is pretty much the essence of it._

_madaboutfriends XD, ladover, brokenbeautiful, speak now and be fearless, gAnGsTa GaBbY lOvEs JoKeR, Guest, dizuz, ScandalousScavos, matteney, Veridissima, RandomNews3, Ghee Buttersnaps15, Stephy-Lou Clark-Weasley, Wicked-Little-Heart, dancer cherrybug, Rawr Olivia Grace, friends-fan9000, Amelia Lauren, WendyCR72, MatTeneyMoNdlerLoVer, Shyfighter, and Bing it's chandy – Thank you for all those 'Ficaversary' (what a great terminology ;)) wishes, and thank you for taking the time to let me know that you're reading and enjoying the story :D_

_And Ricky, thank you for such a wonderful, heartfelt review. That was really sweet of you :)_

_I know this whole 'thank you' thing is getting a little repetitive, so I thought maybe I could put it this way: "Your reviews are like giant pigeons crapping on my heart." (On the second thought, maybe I should just stick with a simple 'thank you'...)_


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